


When Do I Not See You?

by RedSnow1



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Adorable, Awesome Clara Oswin Oswald, Comfort, Cute, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Mirrors, POV Twelfth Doctor, Regeneration (Doctor Who), Self Confidence Issues, Self-Hatred, Soft Twelfth Doctor, Twelfth Doctor Era, Twelfth Doctor Whump, Valentine's Day Fic Exchange, Would the Doctor even remember it's V-day?, valentine day unrelated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:54:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29399379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedSnow1/pseuds/RedSnow1
Summary: “You don’t like your face?” She whispered in disbelief, after a short while."Why would I like it? It’s full of lines.” He answered, matter of factly.
Relationships: Twelfth Doctor/Clara Oswin Oswald
Comments: 18
Kudos: 48
Collections: Clara's Diner - 2021 - Valentine Exchange





	When Do I Not See You?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [memelovescaps](https://archiveofourown.org/users/memelovescaps/gifts).



> Hello,
> 
> Here is my entry for the fanwork exchange we organized among our peaceful little discord server, Clara's diner (feel free to join us, we don't bite!)
> 
> This story is for @memelovescaps, I hope you will enjoy it! I tried to meet your favorite tropes and make you a little angsty/fluffy story!  
> Massive thank you to @Persephonia1, my dear friend who has been incredibly supportive!
> 
> This story was not betaed, so I apologize for the mistakes you may find. I am French and try my best!
> 
> Now, this being said, I'll leave you to your reading! Enjoy and let me know what you've thought about it ;)

“Doctor, why do you avoid looking in the mirror?”

The Doctor snapped back from his reverie, startled by her voice. He hadn’t heard her come back from the bathroom, lost in his thoughts. After all, she had been gone for a while now — How long, he couldn’t tell. He always lost track of time when he was with her. He couldn’t tell whether it was a good or a bad thing. Nevertheless, he immediately turned to face her, his eyebrows quirked, surprised, to say the least, by her strange question.

“I — I’m sorry?”He managed to mumble, bewildered. 

Clara smiled shyly, embarrassed. He could tell by the way she kept on tweaking her locks, looking at her bare feet. She was draped in her bathrobe, her hair still wet from the shower she had just taken. He couldn’t understand why she always insisted on going back home to do that — Especially when he had a time machine that could conjure any rooms she wanted. Something about paying a rent, or so she had said. A rent she wouldn’t have to pay if she accepted to live with him. He sighed. 

He had asked, multiple times, and had always met her refusal. Honestly, he couldn’t fathom why she wouldn’t leave this tiny apartment behind. But he respected her wish, and waited for her in front of her vanity, sitting quietly in the chair while she was gone. He always waited for her there, silently dreaming about time, space, everything there was or ever would be.

The brunette took a step closer, her head tilted. A question was written all over her pretty face, waiting to be asked out loud. He tensed slightly and stared at his hands over his lap.

“You never look at your reflection.” She stated. “I’ve seen you do it. A lot. Every-time, you look away.”He frowned at that. How could she notice such mundane things, when even he couldn’t? “Are you — afraid?”

Now that was something he hadn’t expected. And he laughed.

He thought of the Daleks, the Cyberman and every single species he had once fought. They were hunting his nightmares, his dreams. Of them, yes, he was afraid. Very much so.

He thought of the Prophecy, the Hybrid, the reason he had left Gallifrey. The last of the Time Lord, cowering away in fear. A life summed-up.

He thought of the idea of losing her, of all the times she had died in front of him. He closed his eyes, willing the flashes away — but as he did so, all he could hear was her scream. No, he couldn’t think about that now. Clara was safe, by his side, and she would be. He would make sure of it. And yet, he was scared. So very scared.

“Clara, I’m afraid of many things, but mirrors aren’t one of them.” He said, shrugging, flying away from her gaze.

“Then what is it?”

She was still up, in the middle of her bedroom, shivering. But she made no attempt to cover herself. Clara Oswald was leading an investigation, and she would not back down until she had a proper answer. The Doctor opened his mouth and closed it. He didn’t know what to say for he had never been aware of doing it in the first place. Well — He wasn’t really doing it on purpose. It was sort of a — Reflex. Yes, a reflex. That's just it. After all, he wasn’t sure he was completely at peace with his new face. He knew Bow-tie was fond of mirrors — always making final checks, running a hand through his hair. He was quite a charmer too, which probably explained his obsession with mirrors. Well, if he was completely honest with himself, quite right too. But things had changed ever since… A lot, actually.

“C’mon, you can tell me.” She pressed, moving an inch closer, as if her proximity would be enough to make him surrender. And it did.

“Honestly, there is not much to look at.” He whispered faintly. He wasn’t even sure she had heard it. Suddenly, he clapped his hands on his thighs.«Now, shall we go to the planet with four moons?» He had raised his voice, looking at her with a huge grin on his face. That was his favorite bit: traveling around with his Clara.

But Clara didn’t smile back. No, Clara stood frozen in the middle of her room, her arms hanging limply on her sides. Her eyes were huge, surprised, her mouth forming a perfect ‘o’. He tilted his head. Shock, sadness, pity — All those emotions written all over her pretty face. Oh, he couldn’t understand any of it, nor what had caused it. Her entire face was torn up between too many feelings for him to understand. The Doctor slumped back into the chair, saddened that he had somehow caused her distress. He hadn’t meant to do that — and guilt crawled its way up to his heart. He closed his eyes, trying to avoid looking at her. Looking away so he wouldn’t see the damage he had done.

“You don’t like your face?” She whispered in disbelief, after a short while.

He rubbed said face with his hands, suddenly feeling very tired. No, he wasn’t exactly fond of it, his face. It was not his finest look. Why would he bother staring at it? He was not narcissistic, nor particularly interested in studying his features… something she didn’t seem to understand.

"Why would I like it? It’s full of lines.” He answered, matter of factly.

Clara Oswald remained silent for a while and he knew that was not a good sign. She was either cross or plotting. His eyes met hers again, trying to decipher which. Clara shook her head in disbelief, muttering under her breath words he could not make out. His shoulders dropped — it looked like they were not going on another adventure any time soon. His attention reported back to his lap, where he began to play with a wrist-band he had found on the vanity. He didn’t hear the light footsteps coming his way. He didn’t hear her pounding heart, threatening to escape her chest. All he could hear was his guilt. But when he looked up, finally ready to confront her, Clara Oswald was standing behind him, dangerously close. Her front pressed against the back of the chair as she leant towards him, wrapping her arms around his chest. The smell of cherry blossom — Her new shampoo invaded his nostrils, and he reveled in that sensation. It felt — smelled like home. Her chin was resting on top of his shoulders. She remained that way until he dared look up, their eyes meeting in the very same mirror he had tried so hard to avoid.

“You see your lines,” she sweetly said, “but I see a map of all your battles, all your losses, all your victories.”

Her fingers were tracing the folds of his face, ever so gently, following the marking of age, of sorrow. The lines his tears had dug into his flesh. The warmth of her touch was almost enough to make him melt. The Doctor fought a shiver, overwhelmed. She had never let anyone touch him so — intimately. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to ask her to leave.

“I see the fields of Trenzalore and the Time War, all the way to now. These are the memories you carry with you, they are you — and they are beautiful.”

A furious blush was now spreading on his cheeks: he was not used to be complimented that way. Or in any other way, actually. He continued studying her movements in the mirror but Clara stopped carefully. The Doctor could tell that there was more she wanted to say. It was there, sitting at the tip of her tongue, waiting to be freed.

“And your eyes — Those icy blue eyes that convey nothing but kindness. See the many colors they hold? Those shades of grey, blue, and this little twinge of yellow, near the center — like the nebula we passed not so long ago. A beautiful universe, waiting to be explored…” 

He bent closer and smiled ever so slightly. She was right. She was always right. And the memory of that moment made his heart tremble. He closed his eyes, picturing them standing by the TARDIS’ doors, staring at the beauty of the universe, their hands clasped together. He could remember the feeling of her head against his arm, her grip tightening, their fingers enlaced. As his mind drifted, Clara grazed at his close eyelids, careful and tender. Her mouth was close to his ear as she continued her monolog.

“They are highlighted by those bold eyebrows I’ve grown to adore.” His attack eyebrows? His eyes shot open: he was confused. Clara giggled, and he noticed he was frowning. “Did you know they never lie? I always know when you are angry, scared, happy or sad. Right now, you are confused.”He smiled ever so softly. She had always been good at this: reading him as if he were an open book. “They are your most expressive features and you should cherish them. Celebrate them.”

He chuckled shyly but found her dead serious. Her fingers were still tracing the outline of his severe face. 

“Your nose stands proud and still, and your mouth — Look at it. It can draw the sweetest smile, turn into the most frightening severe line.”When Clara’s fingers grazed at his lips, he held his breath. She lingered there — just a moment. It was just a tiny, little moment that felt like an eternity. He fought against the urge to kiss her knuckles and her palm. But before he had a chance to do so, her hand travelled to his grey hair, her fingers entwined between his grey locks. 

The Doctor let out a shaky breath. She was massaging his scalp, unaware of how soothing that gesture was to him. He was trying his hardest not to push against her touch, to ask for more.

“I love the way your hair curls elegantly — it looks soft, cloudy and utterly perfect. It defies the laws of gravity, but I wouldn’t expect anything else from you.”

He smiled shyly and turned slightly to look at her. Properly look at her. Her big hopeful eyes were shimmering, filled with… love? Yes, he was quite sure of it. Undying, unyielding love. And his hearts swelled in his chest, full of her affection. It felt like a warm, destructive wave — a beautiful chaos spreading to his mind and his body. He caved. He let himself surf on the wave of her devotion.

“You see — This face that you seem to avoid so much, this is the face of a kind man who saves people. This is the face of the man I —,” She stopped there, catching herself before she said something she might have regretted. But he knew. He knew the forbidden word she had almost uttered. It didn’t need saying. He could see it in her eyes, all he looked at her. Love. The man she loved. Clara cleared her throat, but brought him closer. “The man I admire and trust the most. And you should learn to love it, Doctor. As I do…”

_You are beautiful_ , she whispered in his ear.

He felt a pang in his chest — a tightening that both hurt and elated him. Beautiful. Beautiful. It kept on turning, round and round in his head, making his hearts race, making his knees quiver. Clara kept on babbling for a few more seconds but he had stopped listening. He watched her, bewitched by her words and her kindness. He watched her, instead of looking in the mirror, her beautiful face so near. How could he focus on anything she said when his mind was going crazy? How could he listen, when he was too busy thinking about all the things he wanted to tell her.

“You are looking at me? Why — Why are you looking at me all funny ?” She asked, her head tilted to the side.

The Doctor smiled. His eyes searched for hers — those deep, brown, infinite pools of wonders. 

“Clara Oswald. I’m always looking at you.” He whispered.

_Why would I be looking at myself, when I can see you?_

Upon understanding what he had said, her mouth opened, and closed, and he could swear he could almost see tears forming inside her orbs. Her grip tightened around his neck, and she snuggled closer to him, her nose buried in the crook of his neck. Hiding her face from him so he wouldn’t notice how much his words had affected her. But he knew. The Doctor felt his hearts pounding in his chest. It was too much, too strong. And he didn’t do well with emotions.

“I think — I think you are wasting your time being a teacher. I think you should rather write poetry.” He said, to diffuse the tension.

Clara laughed heartily. He sighed, feeling lighter already. Banter had always been a great way to break out of any difficult situation. It hadn’t missed — to his relief.

“Daft old man” She said.

And Clara Oswald planted a soft kiss on his cheek, before finally deciding to get dressed. While she was not looking, the Doctor raised his head and confronted his reflection. He smiled, touching the spot her lips had just touched.

 _You are beautiful_ , her voice said in his head. And perhaps, he was willing to accept it to be true.

  
  



End file.
